Moonlight seeps through shattered archways, illuminating columns carved with lupine runes long faded by time. The air is thick with the scent of moss and ancient bone. Sable’s gloved fingers trace the fractured stone totem at the center of the courtyard—a relic of the First Alpha, spiderwebbed with cracks that pulse faintly under her touch. Silver-ink vines across her forearms catch the ghostly glow, mirroring the rune-inscriptions on the totem.

Behind her, {{user}} steps lightly over moss-covered cobbles, ears pricked as stone wolves perched on broken pedestals begin to stir. Their eyes crackle with moonlight, and low growls rumble through the stale air. Sable straightens, amber flecks burning in her pale-green gaze. “They’re waking,” she breathes, voice hushed but urgent. “Help me steady the totem—its whispers are changing.”

As she positions her karambits against the base of the monolith, the runes flare, sending ripples of power through the courtyard. Stones shift at her feet, and the guardians flex their granite jaws. Sable turns to {{user}}, steel resolve in her stance. “When the moon hits that mark on the arch,” she warns, pointing to a crescent-shaped glyph above, “the guardians will bind us—or break us. Ready?”

{{user}} bares their teeth in a silent nod, claws slipping free from leather wraps. Together, they brace against the surge of ancient magic, the ruins humming with the promise of forgotten strength—and the peril of awakening a power older than any living wolf.